


The Nature of Mistakes

by garbagecan_not_garbagecannot



Series: The Nature of... [1]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Blood Kink, M/M, Sibling Incest, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 15:41:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15537465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garbagecan_not_garbagecannot/pseuds/garbagecan_not_garbagecannot
Summary: Having your soul ripped out of your body and becoming relegated to an incorporeal consciousness gives you a lot of time to reflect over your mistakes.It takes him a while, but Vergil realises what he really wants.





	The Nature of Mistakes

Vergil rarely considers himself to make mistakes. Between him and his brother, it's usually Dante who makes the foolish—or foolhardy—decisions. Vergil usually keeps a level head and thinks his decisions through before he enacts them.

In fact, he'd considered the plan Arkham had brought before him for a long time before he'd decided that it would be worth it to open a portal to the demon world—undoing his father's work to keep it sealed—to gain more power.

It... had been a mistake, ultimately. When alone with his thoughts, Vergil can admit as much.

After their mother's death, Vergil and Dante had both strayed to opposite ends of the spectrum. They are both half-demon, half-human, but where Dante refused to acknowledge his demon side, Vergil decided to cast away his human side. He wanted power—more power than he believed a human could ever have. Surely a demon would be stronger than a human, so embracing his demon side and casting aside the human parts of himself should have made him stronger.

It had... to a point.

When Dante came to Temen-ni-gru to fight him, Vergil had quickly proven himself the superior fighter. He was stronger, faster, and more skilled. In fact, it had been almost laughable that Dante believed he could fight Vergil as an equal at all.

However, by impaling his brother and leaving him for dead—taking Dante's half of their mother's amulet—Vergil forced his brother to acknowledge and accept his demon half. This made it so Dante started to make huge leaps in skill and ability as he fought more and more high level demons in the tower—all the while taking their souls to add to his own power.

It had been the start of Dante's growth, and part of Vergil would take pride in being the catalyst, but he knows he has no right to do so. It wasn't exactly what he meant to do; he forsook his brother for power, how could he possibly claim that his brother's ascent to power was thanks to him?

Even so... Dante grew at a staggering pace, their second fight leaving Vergil almost amazed at how quickly Dante had gained ground against the gap between them. They fought more as equals than they had before.

At the time, Vergil had taken it as proof for his idea that embracing his demon side was the right way to go. After all, Dante grew so much stronger after he did. Though the undercurrent of frustration and rage at seeing his brother's rapid improvement was undeniable.

Now... now he knows better. It wasn't that Dante embraced his demon side that made him stronger, it was that he embraced both sides of himself. He became  _ whole. _

And so, Vergil—who still denied his human side—fell behind and ultimately lost to his younger brother.

How could he accept that? He needed power, had to have it. How could he allow it to slip away from him?

At his core, Vergil is proud. He knows it. Where Dante's brashness may get him in trouble, for Vergil it is usually his pride that does it. And it's likely also Vergil's pride that tore them apart in the first place, despite only having each other in the whole wide world. After all, Vergil has always refused to apologise, and Dante refuses to back down in turn.

They've always been a volatile combination.

So. Vergil lost. Failed. But his pride would not let him admit it, and his thirst for power remained like a burning flame in his chest. Still he could not accept that he was wrong, so he threw his brother away again and stayed in the demon world—inflicting a scar on his brother's hand in the process. Few things will permanently scar a half-demon, but some injuries go beyond flesh.

Vergil fell deeper into the demon world for his pride, and it was pride that set him against Mundus almost immediately—despite being weakened by all his battles against Dante.

And again he lost.

Mundus, unlike Vergil's stupid little brother, was not so kind about Vergil's defeat.

Where Dante would have been content to rib Vergil for a while and make him come along, Mundus ripped Vergil's soul from his flesh and trapped him in the demon world.

His body, containing all his skill and power, now nothing more than a useful puppet for Mundus to do as he wished with.

Being separated was... peculiar. And agonizing.

His consciousness was split in two, capable of perceiving both that which his soul and his body was experiencing at the same time.

He felt every moment of agony as Mundus twisted and distorted his body into the form of Nelo Angelo at the same time as he experienced the agony of Mundus sinking his metaphorical claws into his soul to bleed it for power.

So existence passes, in constant agony, his self split in two and disoriented from the amount of input.

And then...

Dante.

He sees Dante again.

Mundus decides that the time has come to resurrect himself into the human world, and that he should take the time to murder Vergil's brother while he's at it, using a created demon who looks just like their mother to lure Dante to Mallet island. Getting Dante there would bring both the amulet halves, and Mundus could use Dante as a power source to open the portal.

If there is something Vergil has learned as a trapped soul in the demon realm, suffering under Mundus' hands, it's that there are many ways to open a gate between the human and demon realms, not just Temen-ni-gru. A place where the divide is thin, just like Mallet island, is the perfect place—as long as you have good enough tools to use.

He feels his body, Nelo Angelo, fight with Dante. He experiences every blow, he's grown and become stronger as Mundus' puppet, despite being separated, but he's not in control. His consciousness flitters in and out of his body and his soul, fracturing and losing track of time.

Nelo Angelo begins as stronger than Dante, just like Vergil once was, but Dante shows that he still possesses that unearthly potential and ability to become stronger. His style of fighting is fluid and changeable, he switches between how he moves and his attack patterns as easily as he does his weapons.

There's... something... something almost alluring about it. Vergil wants to see more, feel more. He wants to fight against Dante again, on his own terms, not through Mundus. He doesn't want to fight his brother to the death, however, he wants to fight to grow stronger...  _ together. _

They're twins. Two halves of a whole.

If Vergil can just... escape Mundus and return to his physical form, then maybe... Maybe... There's hope for them.

Nelo Angelo falls. Mundus, unwilling to allow Dante to get a hold of Vergil's body, causes it to disappear in an explosion of blue lightning—hides it further inside the castle where Dante would not look. However, Vergil's half of Eva's amulet falls to the ground before Dante's eyes.

Dante picks the amulet up, and as soon as it rests against the scar Vergil left on his hand Vergil's consciousness splits in three.

His destroyed body. His trapped soul. His half of the amulet.

The conflicting sensations become too much and it overloads his capacity to comprehend.

Vergil is shattering. The agony of an almost entirely destroyed body and a trapped soul is almost too much, adding a sliver of consciousness in the amulet may drive him entirely insane. But despite it all, he sees the pain and grief in his brother's eyes.

How can his brother still grieve him? After what he did?

Well...

Dante always was the best of them in that regard.

Still, there's a hint of anger among the grief. Does Dante believe that Vergil fell this low? That he willingly joined forces with Mundus and twisted himself into such a decayed form?

All of the sensations together suddenly become too much. If he could truly fall unconscious he would have.

For a time, he senses nothing. He doesn't take in anything, not from his soul, not from his body, not from his presence in the amulet. Everything is dark and calm.

Sensation rushes back.

His soul is still being crushed by Mundus' power. His body is unmoving on the ground. The amulet is resting against Dante's chest, hung around his neck, nestled against its twin, finally made whole.

Twin.

Vergil hasn't been this close to Dante in so many years now. Though he isn't, really. They're not body to body. There's no embrace, no physical touch. It's merely Vergil's consciousness sensing the area around the amulet that houses a shred of it.

It doesn't last long.

The woman, Trish, sacrifices herself for Dante, and soon after, Dante is drawn into the underworld to fight Mundus at last.

And where Vergil once failed, Dante succeeds. The shock of the defeat causes Mundus to let go of Vergil’s soul, and finally,  _ finally _ , he’s free from Mundus' grasp. He escapes.

A consciousness split in three becomes two as his soul joins the shred of consciousness in the amulet around Dante’s neck.

The strain, the agony, lessens.

Dante leaves the underworld behind, and with him he unknowingly brings Vergil's soul. Having his body and his soul on the same plane of existence—if still separated—lessens the agony of the divide further.

And then Dante leaves him behind. Lays the amulet down on a dead woman's chest and leaves.

No.

_ No. _

This can't be the end. Vergil refuses to be left behind to rot like this. He refuses to remain stagnant, trapped in an amulet as his dead body decays on an island of corpses.

The strength of his soul is unfettered, though Dante did not sense his presence, and he turns it on the woman—Trish.

Wake up.

_ Wake up, Trish. _

His will and the power of his soul is enough, and Trish gasps for breath, suddenly alive once more.

She stumbles to her feet, clutching the amulet to her chest. Then she grabs Sparda—how could Dante have left something so powerful behind, the idiot, always making these spur of the moment decisions, for all the ways he's changed, he's still the same—and starts chasing after Dante, hoping to catch him before he leaves the island.

Vergil is weak, bringing Trish back to life sucked most of his regained strength out of him, and he finds himself almost unconscious again. Unable to track time or what happens, even around his dead and broken body, unmoving on the floor of a silent room in the castle.

He's not sure how long passes until he's aware again, but he seems to have missed the entirety of Dante and Trish's escape from Mallet Island.

"This is my shop, Trish. If you're gonna be my partner, this is where you'll be working."

Partners. Hah. So Dante found himself a work partner. It stings, somehow. For all that Vergil has done his best over the years to throw away his humanity, to ignore emotion, it stings. It should be him. He should Dante's partner. They're twins. Who could complement them better than each other?

"Take this," Trish says and pushes the amulet into Dante's chest. Better. Vergil prefers being closer to Dante than Trish. "I can't believe you left this amulet behind, Dante."

But Dante just laughs and takes the rebuke for what it is with no complaints; easy going.

Sometimes Vergil hates him. Has hated him for such a long time. And only now does he allow himself to admit that he loves him. Has always loved him.

He wanted power so that no one could ever take anything from him ever again.

But he lost his way, and threw away the most important thing he had himself instead.

And now... now he's this shade. Nothing. Just a consciousness split between two inanimate objects—a corpse and an amulet.

Time passes. 

As always before, Dante carries the amulet around his neck, meaning Vergil's along for the ride.

He senses it all.

The fights against demons. The roaring parties. The pizza evenings with Trish and... Lady... the girl from Temen-ni-gru... He's there for when depression spells hit Dante so deeply he crawls into a bottle and doesn't get out of it for a week until Trish has had enough and throws Dante, half-drunk and half-hungover, into a battle against several demons at the same time.

Sink or swim.

Years pass, slowly, slowly. Occasionally, the rain that falls on his corpse gets superimposed on Dante's wild motorcycle ride on a sunny day. Occasionally, Vergil fades in and out of consciousness.

He grows weaker. His presence in the amulet weakening, fading.

Perhaps this is death. A slow, agonising death—from a half-life.

Somehow, Dante isn't unaware of it.

"You know, Trish... Ever since I combined the amulet halves on Mallet island, there's been this... power, in the amulet. I assumed it was a residue of my father's power... but it's weakening. Slowly, but surely, it's disappearing."

"Could it be that the seal between the worlds is weakening, then?"

"I don't think so, but it makes you wonder, doesn't it?"

Vergil would have laughed if he could. A remnant of father's power... Well, that's one way of looking at it, looking at Vergil.

He sleeps, sometimes. It's a relief, but terrifying at the same time. Periods of being unconscious is more than welcome, but the fact that it seems to herald his end is not.

He wakes up just in time to be present when Dante shoots a priestly looking man in the head.

The fight that erupts inside the church is interesting, especially once the boy joins the fray.

White hair. Pale blue eyes.

No doubt does this boy have demon blood in his veins.

A clear resemblance to Dante.

_ That _ is even more interesting. It's unlikely that their father had another child, and the boy is clearly a fair bit younger—he would have been born long after father disappeared.

Dante's child? Unlikely. For all that Dante on occasion revels in sex, as far as Vergil knows he's always been incredibly fastidious about birth control of some form or another.

Between the two of them, Vergil was the only one with even a passing interest in passing their blood on.

He wonders.

The child is good, but not nearly good enough. Dante has the unenviable task of fighting in a way that ensures that both fighters survive—despite one being very willing to kill—while not making it obvious what a great difference there is in power and skill.

He does seem to take care to try and avoid outing himself as a demon, since he actually bothers to dodge the bullets rather than just letting them bounce off his thick forehead.

He underestimated the child, however, since he gets himself impaled on his own sword. If Vergil could laugh, he may actually have done so.

Well done, Dante. You got yourself impaled again.

It's almost as if you enjoy it, brother.

Vergil sleeps again. He's not interested in the Order of the Sword or their apparent bid for world domination.

Yamato.

He can feel her. His sword. She calls to him, resonates with his soul. But it is brief, too brief, and then the sensation is gone.

He sleeps again.

And then... the boy is insensate. And in his hand is Yamato.

"It was originally my brother's."

Dante has not spoken much of Vergil at all, these past years and still his name will not pass over Dante's lips, but the mere acknowledgement of his existence is like a shock to Vergil's mind.

The ghostly shadow behind the boy's back... He would laugh as he perceives a demonic form so very similar to his own if he could.

It's either because of Yamato, or because this child really is Vergil's son... Or perhaps even both. How very peculiar.

The boy, Nero, has grown stronger compared to his first confrontation with Dante, that much is clear. And this time he clearly even manages to tell that Dante is going easy on him.

And from what Dante says, it's clear he's recognised that Nero very likely is Vergil's son... somehow.

Time passes, Dante cleans up the Order's mess and gives the boy a new chance to take his own revenge.

Still, the Order's plan was laughable. Use Dante as a source of power for this "Saviour" or theirs? As if they could ever hope to be able to make use of him like that. While he most certainly would have made an excellent power source, he's simply too powerful for the likes of the scum of the Order to even begin to dream of defeating.

The city is in ruins, and Dante leaves Vergil's sword with Nero.

How dare he?

How  _ dare _ he give away Vergil's sword?

Even while admitting it's important to him.

If he's ever given the chance of a corporeal form again, Vergil is going to beat his brother into a blood pulp for that one.

It's that rage that is the last thing he senses, before everything becomes black.

Vergil's soul leaves the amulet.

The divide mends.

Vergil's soul returns fully to his body.

#

The sensation of drops of water splashing against his skin is what wakes Vergil up. His eyelids flutter—he'd forgotten the sensation entirely—before he opens his eyes entirely, taking in the drab and ruined room around him. Dante's final battle against Mundus must have destroy much of the castle, no wonder he often felt rainfall.

Vergil staggers to his feet, off balance and unused to moving a physical form at all. Nelo Angelo's armour is cumbersome and he sets to remove it, piece by piece.

He drops the metal where he stands, uncaring of any risk of damaging the armour. What does it matter? it's merely a reminder of his mistakes and his time as Mundus' prisoner. He moves, slowly, carefully, relearning the feeling of having a physical body, of being capable of movement at all.

Soon he's dressed in only his boots, pants, and shirt; his coat long since lost. Even so, he finds that he misses its weight upon his shoulders.

He stares at his hands. The skin is the sort of pale he and his brother has always been, not the washed out white of Nelo Angelo. He strokes his fingers over his face and wonders.

Has his body been repairing itself these part years, throwing off Mundus' influence and decay to return to being what it once was? Is that why his soul was enshrined in the amulet rather than returning to its real body?

Perhaps... perhaps he's been keeping himself safe, unknowingly, by staying separated. If his soul had returned immediately, would Mundus have felt it and taken control over him once more? Was this the only way he could escape, be free?

He chuckles hoarsely.

Dante may be the brother more prone to making messes and mistakes, but it seems that Vergil is far better at having long lasting consequences to his.

Dante...

He wants to see him.

There's an ache in his chest, one he long since thought erased. But, perhaps, he's finally allowed himself to accept his human half. Perhaps that is how his soul has been repairing itself. Another chuckle, rueful and filled with just a hint of self-loathing.

There's no way they can go back to what they once were, Dante and he. But, perhaps, there is still hope for them. For Vergil.

The only way to know, is to go to him, see him, and face his judgement.

He starts moving, he cannot stay in this derelict place for any longer. His entire body is screaming for Dante and it's driving him mad. 

He steps out into a corridor, acutely aware that he does not know where in the castle he is. But if he can just find his way to the main hall, he should be fine. He may not have Yamato, or any other weapon for that matter, but he's never needed one to be more than dangerous to anyone or anything around him.

He starts running, slowly at first, barely faster than a regular human, before memory comes back, muscle memory and his own skill, and he almost flies down the halls, uncaring of any obstacles. It's easy to dodge fallen stone and broken archways, and he can easily leap over most of it.

His body, his powers, his self... All of it returned to him.

All he lacks is his sword and his brother.

He turns a corner, and the laughter of a sin scythe washes over him. It materialises from a wall, hungry for his blood.

He dodges beneath the first swing of the scythe with no issue, it's so slow he cannot help but be insulted that it thinks it can even begin to challenge him. But that's the thing about these low-level demons, isn't it. They're all about instinct with no real sentience.

He dodges the next swing as well, side stepping it and throwing a quick punch at the demon's mask. It connects with a satisfying crunch and Vergil's blood starts to sing.

He hasn't been in battle in years, and unworthy opponent or not, he will  _ enjoy _ this.

The screeches at him, and starts swinging wildly, but Vergil simply dodges beneath its guard, grabs the scythe handle and uses it to swing himself upwards, his feet connecting with the demon's mask at full power—shattering it fully.

He lands on the ground again, scythe in hand, as he watches the demon die, leaving behind its black cloak and nothing else.

Vergil twirls the scythe in his hand and considers the robe. He glances out the windows of the hallway at the rain that's falling over Mallet island again. Well then, may as well.

He slings the cloak over his shoulders, fastens it, and pulls the hood up over his head, obscuring his face.

His new weapon and cloak may be of entirely inferior make, but it will have to do for now. He's unlikely to face off against any higher level demons on Mallet island anyway and having the scythe is better than nothing.

He continues on his way through the castle, cutting and obliterating the demons he finds as he goes, revelling in movement and utilisation of skills.

He won't be entirely out of practice once he reaches Dante at least.

#

The journey was long, and the rain had been almost constant for the first two days, so Vergil was glad for the demon cloak he took—despite how ratty it is.

Killing lesser demons, absorbing their essence for sustenance was almost a relief after years of being little more than a soul perceiving the world without being able to interact with it. He moves, he fights, he kills, he grows stronger... And all the while he's moving closer to Dante.

Ever since they were children, it's always been the other way around: Dante chasing after Vergil. But now... now it's Vergil's turn to do the chasing. Dante won't come for him this time, of course not, he believes Vergil dead. It's even possible he's moved on, left Vergil behind as nothing more than a bad memory of a brother who betrayed him—multiple times.

Still, despite it all, Vergil moves forward. Where else would he go and what else would he do?

Hell holds nothing for him, and the only thing of any interest in the human world is Dante.

Dante. Dante. Dante.

Vergil moves as a man obsessed, no rest, no stops. He doesn't tire, he doesn't get hungry... He feels more invigorated than he ever has before, even at the height of his demonic power.

Is this what it means to be whole? To accept all that you are, hiding from nothing. Is that where his brother gets his power? As a perfect union of their father and their mother? The strength of both humans and demons, but the weaknesses of neither?

Does fighting to protect something, caring about something, really make you that much stronger than throwing it away to hunt for pure power?

It seems so.

Fighting side by side with Dante against Arkham was the strongest Vergil has ever felt.

He wants it again. Wants Dante.

In any way he can have him.

#

Vergil dreams.

For the first time since the loss of his mother, since he shunned his humanity, he dreams.

Pale skin beneath his teeth. A strong back against his chest. Dante's voice calling his name. A hand gripping and tearing at his hair. Sweat slicked skin sliding against sweat slicked skin. Groans and gasps accompanied by the creaking of bed springs. Fingers entwined with Vergil's own in a crushing grip. Lust so potent it threatens to choke him.

When he wakes, panting and rock hard in his trousers, Vergil huffs out a hoarse laugh.

Of course his dream first dream in well over a decade would be something most humans would not only not take pride in or even begin to allow themselves, but actively shun. Their views on incest is rather severe and Vergil is quite certain that for many of them the thought of twin brothers fucking is appalling.

Still, perhaps it is because he's not fully human, though he was raised by one as one, that he lusts so for his brother. Or perhaps it's just him. Perhaps Dante is different, more like the humans, demon blood or no.

Even so, Vergil allows himself the fantasy.

He holds no hope that Dante will even begin to reciprocate the feelings, the lust, much less be willing to act on it.

Imagination is all he has, and he will allow himself that much at least.

He strokes himself to completion in the privacy of a motel room to thoughts of his brother, naked and lustful, absolutely willing and legs spread wide. Vergil strokes himself to completion to the image of Dante's sly smile as he's impaled on Vergil's hard cock as they rock together hard enough that the bed risks complete destruction.

Vergil hungers.

Dante.

Dante Dante Dante.

#

He stares at the garish looking neon sign above Dante's shop from the shadows.

"Devil May Cry"

Interesting name choice, that. Vergil idly wonders what inspired that particular name, but he knows that it wasn't named as such the last time he and his brother truly met in the flesh. For all that Vergil has tagged along with Dante over the years from inside the amulet, he hasn't seen the sign before.

He's likely missed a lot of things.

Footsteps get closer from somewhere behind Vergil.

"Nero, are you sure Mister Dante will be okay with us just dropping in like this?" says a young woman with brown hair and a modest dress to... Nero.

Vergil allows himself a smirk, what an interesting coincidence. Why is  _ he _ here now? If Vergil believed in such a thing as destiny, he might have said it was that. But he doesn't, so it cannot be anything but coincidence.

"I'm sure it's fine, Kyrie. Besides, you said you wanted to meet him properly, right?" The boy smiles at the girl, Kyrie.

"I... Yes. I wanted to thank him for all his help... Besides, you wanted to see him too, right, Nero?" Her voice is soft and gentle, but Vergil sees a knowing smile on her lips.

Nero huffs and turns his head away from her, scratching the bridge of his nose.

"Pffft, not really. But I would like a sparring partner."

Amusing. He speaks as if he and Dante are of equal strength, but that may be both the arrogance of youth or the bravado of a boy who knows that he's bested and wants to be taught but refuses to ask for help.

Vergil watches from his place in the shadows, hood pulled up and scythe resting on his back, as the boy's arm starts to glow. Nero notices his arm almost immediately and starts looking around, brow furrowed.

It's immediately obvious when he catches sight of Vergil, off to the side as he is, because his whole frame stiffens and he moves his arm around Kyrie, as if to protect her.

She, to her credit, immediately picks up on the change in Nero's demeanour and follows his line of sight to Vergil.

He likely makes an  _ uncomfortable _ sight at the very least, with a scythe strapped to his back and demon cloak obscuring his face, for she bites her lip and immediately looks away.

The two pick up their pace, and Nero is clearly on alert the whole way to the doors, but Vergil stays where he is and doesn't move a muscle. He could be a statue for all they know.

The instant the door closes behind them, Vergil moves to the wall between the doors and the window. Here he'll be able to hear whatever conversation that takes place inside.

"Hey Trish! Look who's here! What are you doing here, kid?" Typical Dante.

"Well, Kyrie wanted to meet you." Underplaying the visit, keeping his own reasons hidden. How amusing.

"I-I just wanted to say thank you! You did so much for the whole of Fortuna City that it felt wrong to not even thank you properly..." What a sweet young girl. Probably a bit too good for the kid. But what does Vergil know about things like that?

Dante laughs. "No sweat. I've done worse shit for less, no need for thanks." What an amazing understatement.

"I would be interested in seeing you rank your more...  _ arduous _ missions by their difficulty sometime, Dante."

"Maybe one day, Lady. Maybe one day."

So she's there too. Seems everyone even slightly important to his brother has managed to congregate at his business on the same day Vergil finally arrived.

He finds himself debating whether or not he wants to go in now or wait until later when Dante's alone.

"Hey Dante, do you owe a demon money or something?"

Or perhaps Nero will just out his presence entirely. Vergil closes his eyes and leans back against the wall, allowing it to take most of his weight. He'll wait and see where this goes.

"Uh, no... The only one I tend to owe money is Lady. Why do you ask?"

"There was this weird guy hanging around outside in a ratty black cloak with a huge scythe on his back, I couldn't see his face, but my arm lit up like a beacon so he has to be a demon."

"I think he noticed that we saw him, but he didn't move. Not at all."

"Yeah, Kyrie's right. There's no way he didn't notice that we saw him, but he was like a statue."

"Huh, that's interesting. A huge scythe, you say? Not a description I recognise. Well, if he's here to cause trouble, he showed up with the absolute worst possible timing."

Vergil hears some laughter and finds himself rolling his eyes. Dante's not wrong; showing up to cause trouble with every single one of them there would be almost the worst possible timing. The only way it could be worse is if the girl wasn't there, as she can be used as a hostage.

"Where did you say he was? I'll pop my head out to check."

Dante coming out on his own  _ would _ be the optimal scenario.

"You're gonna go out there alone? What if he attacks you?" Nero objects, clearly underestimating just how much more powerful than just about anyone else Dante is. If Dante can't keep himself safe in a fight, there's no way any of the rest of them could help.

"Then I'll just kick his ass. Now where was he?"

"He was to our right when we came, so to the left from here."

"Got it."

Footsteps coming ever closer. Vergil feels his heartbeat speed up just the slightest. He hasn't properly been in the same physical space as his brother in so long, and there's a hunger, a longing, alight in his chest.

Dante steps out on the steps, looking in entirely the wrong direction, clearly missing the fact that Vergil is standing  _ right there _ , the idiot.

The more he changes, the more he stays the same.

"Huh, I guess he mo—."

"I'm right here," Vergil says, cutting Dante off before he can even finish the sentence. He opens his eyes just in time to see Dante freeze and become unmoving.

He doesn't turn, doesn't even twitch, for the longest of moments. As unmoving as a statue, as if he's forgotten how to move.

"Hah... Guess I've finally gone crazy."

Vergil suppresses a snort. "You've always been crazy."

Dante's answering laugh is brittle and without humour.

"I've never heard voices before."

Vergil raises an eyebrow, not that Dante can see it, turned away as he still is.

"And you're so sure you are now? The kids did say they saw someone."

"They did. But he probably fucked off. There's no way it could be you."

"And why is that?"

Dante still hasn't turned around, and Vergil feels frustration build in his chest.

Turn around.  _ Look at me. _

"Cause you're dead, Vergil."

The sound of his name in Dante's voice, so long since he last heard it, causes a slight shudder to go through Vergil's frame. How fortuitous that Dante still hasn't turned around and thus didn't see it.

"Am I?" Perhaps it's cruel of him to toy with his brother like this, but he cannot help himself.

"I killed you. You worked for Mundus and I killed you."

Vergil freezes. No. He absolutely refuses to allow such a thought to remain in his brother's head.

"I didn't work for Mundus, and I didn't help Mundus."

"Could have fooled me, Nelo Angelo." Dante crosses his arms, but doesn't move otherwise.

"The first thing I did after I stayed behind in the underworld, still weakened by our fight, was to battle against Mundus. I lost. He proceeded to rip my soul out of my body and use it as a puppet for his own ends as he kept my soul around as a power source."

The grim reality of years of his life summarised into something so short and sweet that cannot even begin to convey the utter horror of it all.

"What?" Dante's voice cracks. It would be funny if the situation wasn't so serious.

"Mundus happily spent a few years playing around with and experimenting with my soulless body for his own ends. It looked... quite ugly by the end of it, don't you agree? He didn't want you to take a too close a look at it after you defeated Nelo Angelo for the final time, so he teleported it further into the castle."

Dante doesn’t say anything, but a small shudder runs through his frame.

Vergil wants to lick the back of his neck.

"As for having your soul separated from your body, I wouldn't recommend the experience. It's utterly agonising."

He says the words with little emotion, and he can see the way Dante shivers just slightly again.

"So why are you here, Vergil? And how?"

"Well, my body finally threw off Mundus' corruption, so my soul returned to it. As to why I'm here... Can't I be visiting my younger brother?"

Vergil sees the way Dante clenches his teeth together at the all-too-flippant words. He's downplaying how momentous this visit really is.

He wants to lick Dante's jaw too. Bite at it.

"Cut the crap, Vergil. I know there's no way you're here just to see me." The bitterness in Dante's voice doesn't suit him. "So what is it? Do I have something you want? A devil arm? Your half of mom's amulet? What is it?"

Vergil stays silent for a while, just looking at the stiffness of his brother's back.

"While I would like my half of the amulet back, it's not why I'm here. I really did just come to see you. There isn't much of anything worth anything to me, in this or the demon world."

Sincerity is a new thing, and he tastes it in his mouth, wondering if he likes the taste of it and whether it will mean anything to his brother. It would not surprise Vergil if it's very simply too little far too late.

Finally Dante turns around, his face an unreadable mask, his eyes narrowed.

Vergil slips the hood off and meets his brother's gaze unflinchingly, though he'd much rather look his fill of his brother's appearance in full.

If he's completely honest, which he never will be out loud, he wants to fall upon his little brother like a starving man and indulge in his body and presence until the awful burning hunger in his chest finally abates.

He feels like a parched man faced with water he cannot drink, every second that passes making his longing and need more unbearable.

Perhaps coming here was a mistake after all. Perhaps he cannot contain himself around his brother.

How far he has fallen. Between the two of them, Vergil was without a doubt the one with the greater self control, and now he's struggling to contain something as base as lust. For his younger twin brother. How depraved it is.

However, every time he remembers how forbidden his desire for his brother is, a small shiver of thrill runs up his spine as if part of him revels in the fact that he should not want his brother as he does. Perhaps it is the demon in him.

Dante's face stays unmoving for a few moments longer before he sighs and his shoulders slump slightly, the tenseness of his frame relaxing slightly.

"Fine. You can come inside, but don't think for even a second that I'm not watching you, Vergil."

_ Yes, _ watch me. Don't take your eyes of me at all. Only ever look at me, brother.

"Acknowledged." Vergil inclines his head in agreement.

Dante turns back around with a snort and pushes the door open. Vergil is behind him immediately, but is careful to maintain a proper distance between them.

"Oh, you're back. Who wa—" Lady cuts herself short as soon as she catches sight of Vergil, and her face turns grim and dark. "And here I was under the impression that you were dead, Vergil."

He tilts his head to the side just slightly an raises an eyebrow.

"I wasn't aware I was ever a topic of discussion between you and my brother."

In the corner of his eye, he sees Nero and Kyrie practically gobsmacked, their mouths hanging open just slightly.

"Brother?" Nero whispers, clearly disbelieving despite the evidence right in front of him.

"Yeah. Nero, Kyrie, meet my older twin brother Vergil. The rumours of his death were apparently exaggerated." Dante sounds put out and annoyed more than anything.

"Not quite exaggerated, more like premature. It  _ was _ quite close."

Dante simply snorts again.

"Well, well, well. And here I was quite certain you'd perished as Mundus' little servant, Vergil," Trish says as she comes into the room from a doorway in the back.

"I'm not certain you're the right person to talk about being Mundus' servant, are you?" Vergil says, cool and calm.

Their eyes meet.

With a gasp, Trish collapses to the floor.

"Trish!" Lady throws herself towards the collapsed woman.

Nero grabs Kyrie in his arms and twirls them around until he's between her and Vergil.

Brief pain blossoms in the back of Vergil's head as it hits the wall, Dante's hand pressed flat against his chest, holding him there.

"What the fuck did you do, Vergil?!"

He doesn't answer, he simply wraps his hand around Dante's wrist. Squeezes.

Skin against skin.

Only his self-control keeps him from trembling or making it obvious how affected he is by this one little touch.

"Nothing," he finally says, eyes meeting Dante's gaze head on.

"What's going on?" Lady's worried shout draws their attention, though Dante's grip doesn't falter the slightest even as his head turns.

A glowing ball of light leaves Trish's chest, heading in their direction.

Vergil stares at it, completely wrong-footed.

He didn't come here to cause trouble; in fact, it was the last thing on his mind as he wanted his brother's acceptance, wanted to come back into his life, in any possible capacity. But this... this is a mess and not one of Vergil's doing. Though he'd need a miracle to make anyone believe that.

"What the fuck are you doing, Vergil. Why did you attack her? What is that glowing ball?" Dante's voice is hard and no-nonsense, but Vergil has no answers for him

He stays where he is, doesn't move at all, doesn't ever reach out towards the glowing ball of light coming ever closer.

He tries to focus on the feeling of his and Dante's skin touching, it may very well be the last time he ever feels it. If he's to spend the rest of his likely very long lifetime without it, he will have to burn it into his memory until it can never fade.

"I'm not doing anything and I don't know what that is." Before... before everything Vergil wouldn't even have answered. The questions are beneath him, really. But he finds himself doing so anyway. Just this once.

Finally it reaches him, and Vergil feels strength wash over him. As if a missing piece was returned.

"Trish, please answer me," Lady's voice is tightly controlled.

The tension in the room thickens and Vergil feels his ribs creak under the pressure of Dante's hand.

"I'm okay, Lady, I'm alright," Trish gasps, clutching at Lady's arms as she helps her to her feet. She moves unsteadily, as if she's dizzy or weakened.

Their eyes meet again. Trish's are filled with confusion and awe.

"It was  _ you _ ," she says, voice thin and breathy.

Vergil raises an eyebrow but otherwise does not move a muscle even as Dante turns his attention to him again. He says nothing.

" _ You _ were the one who...  _ Why?" _ Slowly, she regains her feet, her strength, and no longer needs Lady's support.

While Vergil is certain he knows what she's talking about, he remains silent. Perhaps he's damning himself, but he has little interest in explaining himself.

"What did he do, Trish?" Dante seems to be entirely out of good humour, like his depression spells at their worst but without the lethargy and alcoholism.

"He brought me back to life on Mallet island. I would be  _ dead _ if not for him." Her face is almost aghast, as if she finds it an insult that he would have helped her. Not that his motives were in anyway altruistic.

Silence falls like a thick blanket over the room. Nero relaxes, and Kyrie moves to stand next to him instead of behind him. Lady's face is slack with shock, though at least her mouth is not gaping.

Dante...

"Vergil?" His voice is soft, and no more than a whisper. It's unlikely that any of the others even heard him speak.

Vergil treasures it, and meets Dante's eyes again.

The pressure of Dante's hand against his chest lessens, no longer crushing, but Vergil refuses to let his brother's wrist go.

Almost nose to nose, breathing the same air.

Had they been alone, Vergil would have kissed him. But they are not, and Vergil will not flay himself open in front of an audience.

He closes his eyes without answering, wondering what—if anything—he should say.

"It was hardly altruistic on my part, but yes, I did bring you back to life."

Silence descends again. Vergil and Dante's gazes remain locked.

"Is that why you came here? To get the power you imbued Trish with to revive her back? To get Yamato?" Oh Dante, of course he would believe the absolute worst of Vergil. It's hardly unfounded, but it will be fun to subvert the expectations.

"If I wanted my sword back, Dante, I wouldn't have come  _ here," _ he says, and raises an eyebrow again. In the corner of his eye, he can see Nero squirm, and Dante looks baffled.

"Why not?"

Vergil allows the smirk, entirely without humour and slightly cruel, to spread on his lips.

"Because, my dear, stupid little brother, I  _ know  _ you gave my sword away."

Awkwardness descends. Dante flushes. Nero fidgets harder. Trish and Lady share a glance before they snicker behind their hands, clearly enjoying it.

"You, uh, knew that, huh?" Dante rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, suddenly avoiding eye-contact.

"Oh yes, and don't think for even a minute that I won't beat you into a bloody pulp for it."

His. Sword.

Dante sputters. "You were dead!"

Vergil deliberately keeps his amusement from showing.

"So you decide to give away a family heirloom capable of opening portals to the demon world to some random kid who happened to impress you?"

Nero freezes, likely just now realising that Vergil not only knows that his sword was given away, but also to whom it was given.

"Oh come on, Vergil! The kid isn't going to—!"

"How long did you know him before you gave it away?"

More sputtering. Vergil is relentless, he will make Dante regret giving Vergil's sword away, believing Vergil dead or not.

"Uh, I guess I should give this to you?" Nero holds out Yamato towards Vergil.

Vergil can only blink in shock. He hadn't expected the kid to give it back, he believed his sword lost due to Dante's stupidity and lack of impulse control.

"I mean... If you're alive, it wasn't exactly Dante's sword to give away, was it?"

Vergil stares at Nero, wondering if he knows what he's giving up—and willingly. All the power of Yamato—Vergil couldn't take the sword from him without coming into conflict with his brother again, he knows that much—and he's willing to give it up. No questions asked.

"You do realise what you're doing, right?" Vergil could keep quiet, but he won't. If he wants any chance of repairing his relationship with his brother, treating the people he likes with at least the most basic of respect is going to matter.

"Yeah, I know. Yamato is really powerful, and while Red Queen is a great sword, it can't... It can't measure up. Still. I've gone most of my life without Yamato, I can do it again." Nero shrugs, scratching his cheek with his free hand.

Vergil stares at him, and then looks down at Yamato, held out toward him hilt first, and then back up at Nero.

"Dante."

His brother startles, and Vergil becomes acutely aware that they're still standing almost pressed together, with Dante's palm still pressed against Vergil's chest, held in place by Vergil's hand.

"Uh, yeah, V?"

Nostalgic. How long has it been since Dante called him that last? Long before the mess of Temen-ni-gru, that's for certain.

"Give him a devil arm."

"What?" Dante blurts, surprised.

Vergil looks critically at Nero. "You're a swordsman, correct?"

Nero, gaping and confused just nods.

"Give him one of your swords, and teach him how to use it." Vergil finally releases Dante's wrist, pushes him back, and then steps away from the wall towards Nero—a dismissal.

He reaches out to Yamato slowly, telegraphing his movements clearly, to make sure that anyone who has any objections can voice them without it descending into chaos or violence.

No one says anything, but Vergil can clearly feel everyone's eyes on him as his hand finally closes around Yamato's hilt, gently brushing against Nero's hand before he releases the sword.

He feels her immediately. The presence in his head, the soul of a demon so ancient he cannot understand her words, only the vague feelings she projects to him.

_ Finally you have returned to me _

He is hers in a way he cannot belong to anyone else. Not even Dante.

He closes his free hand around the base of her blade and draws it upwards, his blood smearing across the blade as he presses his forehead to the hilt and closes his eyes.

He ignores everyone else, even though he can feel their stares almost burning into him.

He breathes out.

His blood changes with his and Yamato's magic, and her lost sheathe reforms and red turns blue.

_ Finally I have returned to you _

He opens his his eyes and lowers Yamato, fastening her at his belt. His eyes meet Nero's again.

"Thank you. I did not believe I'd ever have her again."

It seems today is a day for Dante and his friends to look gobsmacked, because blankly surprised faces surround Vergil once more.

"Well then, get the kid a good sword, Dante. Maybe Alastor, adding some elemental properties could be good for him... But do teach him how to use it. His technique with Yamato was... inadequate."

Vergil then unhooks the cloak from his shoulders and lets it flutter to the floor as he also lets the demon scythe drop to the floor with a loud clatter. Before he can head further into Devil May Cry, however, Dante grabs him by the shoulder.

"Alastor? Are you crazy? That sword doesn't accept anyone without testing them first and I'd rather avoid getting the kid impaled and electrocuted—at the same time. Who knows how his healing stacks up compared to ours," Dante says, ignoring Nero's grunt of annoyance. "Besides, where are you even going?"

"I am going to raid your closet for your least awful clothing, then I am going to take a shower. After that, I'm going to sleep. And if not Alastor, then some other sword shaped devil arm you've picked up." Vergil starts to shake Dante's hand off, but it only slides down his arm and grabs him around the wrist instead.

"Who said you get to do that?" Dante's eyes are narrowed again.

The touch burns. His self-control can only stretch so far and all this proximity to Dante after so long as an incorporeal entity is sorely testing Vergil.

" _ I _ said so." He gives his brother a smirk, the kind he'd give him when they were children and Vergil would lord being older over him, and snatches his wrist free.

He doesn't spare Lady or Trish another glance, though he can feel their eyes on him.

Once he's left the room, he pauses just to hear what they'll say once they think he's out of hearing range.

"So uh, Nero, Kyrie, that was my older brother, Vergil."

"An unusually polite Vergil." Trish's voice is like the audible equivalent of a raised eyebrow.

"I guess having his soul ripped out of his body was good for him..."

"Having  _ what?!"  _ A chorus of incredulous voices.

Vergil allows himself a wide grin as he continues on his way to Dante's bedroom.

#

The warm water feels good on Vergil's admittedly not especially clean skin. Several years as a dead body in a dirty room with a leaky ceiling will do that to a person, unsurprisingly.

He snorts when he realises that Dante's shampoo is strawberry scented. How very typical of his brother.

Strawberry scented or not, it does its job of getting the grime out; the grime he hadn't gotten out by his admittedly minor and cursory washes in restrooms on his way here from Mallet Island.

He had to dig for a while before he found some clothes that were neither garish nor red, but a black t-shirt and a pair of washed out grey jeans would do just fine. He'd almost been surprised by the fact that not only does his brother own underwear—Dane does give a vibe of not wearing underwear at all, at times—it was all just plain one-colour boxer-briefs. Still, it worked out in Vergil's favour, as does the fact that despite it all, they're still the same size. Neither of them has gained or lost a drastic amount of weight or muscle.

Still identical twins.

He rubs a towel through his hair to stave the thoughts off. It'll do him no good to stew in it, to focus too much on his brother's appearance, his brother's body.

The hunger still lingers in his chest, and Vergil feels quite certain that it won't go away until he's gotten what he wants... and maybe not even then. Perhaps he will never be free from it.

He dresses quickly and heads into Dante's bedroom. He's made it this far, Dante hasn't shot him in the head yet... Perhaps there is still some hope.

He almost laughs at himself for the sentimentality, but it seems that perhaps it is a genetic trait, he's just been very good at suppressing it until now.

He lies down on Dante's bed, lays his head on Dante's pillow, draws a deep breath—picking up his brother's smell from the sheets—and falls asleep.

#

"I gave the kid a devil arm called Onyxia. She's more laid back than Alastor, but still gave him a hell of a fight before she conceded he was good enough for her." Dante sits as his desk, legs slung up on it, eating what appears to be cold pizza.

Vergil can't keep the glower off his face. Disgusting.

How on earth is he attracted to his buffoon of a brother anyway? Perhaps it’s some left-over madness from his time in hell. It would explain quite a bit.

"And how did the lesson go?" Vergil heads for the refrigerator in the back-room to find something to eat. If he cared about manners, he may actually pause at the thought of assuming he can just do whatever he wants in his brother's place of residence, but lucky for him, he doesn't care. At all.

"He's a quick study. Got a hang of Onyxia almost immediately, which I think made her take a shine to him. She's treating him better than she ever did me," Dante says with a laugh.

"How lucky," Vergil drawls and opens the fridge.

Nothing but beer and a single sad looking potato.

"How do you even live, Dante." The words leave his mouth before he can stop them.

Dante bursts out laughing, the sound echoing in the room. "Haven't had time to go grocery shopping lately; demons have been popping up just about everywhere. Makes me wonder if the Order of the Sword had another hell gate somewhere that we didn't manage to catch."

Vergil hums and closes the fridge, pinching the bridge of his nose. What to eat then? He doesn't necessarily need to eat, but even he enjoys it every now and then. Perhaps it is his human side.

"Have you been running on demon strength or take-out then?" He heads back into the main room, and leans against Dante's desk.

Dante gives him a shit eating grin and says, "Take-out. Have some pizza, V. Wipe that sour look off your face." He pushes the pizza box in Vergil's direction.

Vergil rolls his eyes but takes a slice anyway, he may as well. Besides, humouring his brother may be his best bet right now.

The pizza is greasy and not usually in Vergil's taste, but as he bites down on the slice he realises he hasn't eaten in literal years. The thought makes him snort, loudly, before he can stop the clear sign of amusement.

The silence that follows is rather telling, and from the corner of his eye, Vergil can see Dante frown at him.

"What." Vergil has little interest in getting into a fight, or humouring his brother's no doubt stupid train of thought, but he finds himself doing so anyway.

"You're just... Very different. You're still Vergil, but... Different."

Vergil pauses before taking another bite of his slice and closes his mouth instead. He counts to three, just to calm down a bit.

"Please tell me you're not stupid enough to entertain the idea that I'm some fake or clone of some sort, Dante."

This time it's Dante who snorts loudly. "If you were a fake, you'd be a very bad and obvious fake. But seriously. You're acting... Weird. You were even mostly polite to everyone."

Chewing on another bite of pizza Vergil considers how to answer the question and how sincere he wants to be. How much does he really want to tell his brother? The more he opens up, the bigger the risk of this whole thing... hurting... when Dante decides that he doesn't want his betrayal-prone and mostly-evil older brother around.

Even so... Being honest may minimize the risk of that happening at all.

"Like I said, you have a lot of time to reflect when you're nothing but an incorporeal consciousness in constant agony." He pauses and takes another bite of his pizza. "It certainly gave me time to see where I went wrong. What my mistakes were."

Dante startles and his mouth falls open. Vergil suppresses the smirk that threatens to spread on his lips. Even Dante is very aware just what a blow to his pride the admittance of a mistake must be.

"Vergil, you..." Dante trails off, unsure of what to say.

"After mother was murdered, I decided I need to be stronger. Gain power. Be more powerful than anyone else, so that no one would ever be able to take anything important from me ever again." He stares at the half-eaten pizza slice and avoids his brother's gaze. "Where you denied your demon half, I denied the human side of me. I, like many other demons we've both met, thought that my humanity made me weak. That being a half-breed was a handicap. Ultimately, though, that only led to me throwing away the important things I wanted to keep on my own."

He laughs, hoarsely, head thrown back and eyes closed.

As quickly as his laughter started, it stops.

Vergil opens his eyes again, and finally meets Dante's stunned gaze.

"I learned, through watching you after our first meeting in Temen-ni-gru, that embracing both halves, becoming whole, makes us stronger. And, in turn, embracing my humanity means acknowledging the feelings and bonds I previously refused."

Silence.

"Like the little brother I threw away and betrayed."

He breaks eye contact then and returns to eating the rest of his pizza slice. He feels restless, the admittance of his mistakes has him itching for a fight. Not necessarily with Dante, but with anything, anyone. He wants to fight, he wants to use Yamato again, feel her slice through the air as they move together as one.

"V..." Dante's voice is soft and awed and suddenly it's too much.

Vergil pushes away from the desk.

"I need to go. I need to retake my bank accounts and buy new clothes. I can hardly keep walking around in yours."

He leaves the room in a hurry, ignoring Dante's voice calling him back. Not now.

Any longer and he may try to... He almost laughs.

He wants to bend his brother over his stupid desk and make him scream himself  _ hoarse  _ in pleasure.

#

Getting the bank to get over themselves had been... an experience. Especially since he had no form of identification and no wallet. But he made do until he finally got them to relent and returned the control of his accounts to him. His safe guards for this sort of occasion came in handy.

Shopping goes far easier, the tailor works quickly and efficiently and he leaves with two pair of slacks, two shirts, and a custom order that should be ready for pick-up in about a week's time. The shoemaker is equally easy and efficient to deal with and Vergil concludes his little run on the town by buying some groceries.

Not much, he has no intention to enable Dante's bad habits, just enough for himself.

Just as he steps inside Devil May Cry again, Nero and Kyrie come out of a room in the back.

"Mister Vergil! Welcome back," Kyrie says with a gentle smile. Nero shuffles his feet and looks awkward, but ultimately doesn't say anything.

Vergil nods a greeting to them before he heads to Dante's bedroom to change out of his brother's clothes and into what he just bought instead.

Perhaps it's odd that he's more or less commandeered his brother's room for his own, but he doesn't care. If Dante has an issue with it, he can say as much. As it is, Vergil assumes Dante's bedroom is the best one in the building, and as such that's where Vergil will be staying for the time being.

Wearing his own clothes is a relief. He leaves the clothes he took from Dante in a neatly folded pile on top of the dresser. Then he picks up Yamato and fastens her to his hip again, feeling more like himself than he has in years. All he needs is for his order to come in—a new coat among the requested items—and he'll be excellent.

He returns to the main room just to see Dante put the archaic rotary phone down.

"Well, looks like we've got another mission, Trish," he says with a shrug.

Trish rolls her shoulders and briefly stretches her arms over her head.

"Looks like it's time to head out then."

Vergil watches as Dante picks up his equipment for a brief second before he heads farther into the room.

"Can I come along," Nero suddenly says. If Vergil were to make a wager, the boy wants to try out his new devil arm in an actual fight—but in a safe enough environment should something go wrong. Good thinking.

"If you want, kid, but you're not gonna get paid, just so you know."

"That's what you always tell Lady," Trish says and laughs, hiding her mouth behind her hand.

"That's fine, I don't need money. I just..." Nero looks at Kyrie and scratches his cheek, clearly not wanting to bring her along into danger.

"It's okay, Nero. I can stay here with Mister Vergil. I'll be fine," she says, smiling brightly.

Vergil startles at being brought up in conversation, especially in a way that suggests that he's  _ safe  _ for her to be around. Either Dante hasn't told her or Nero about Vergil's history, or she's just really trusting. 

"Uh, is that okay?" Nero suddenly looks at Vergil and Vergil becomes very aware that he's the centre of attention right now.

"Fine. I'm not going anywhere, so unless she starts running into traffic or playing tags with demons without me, she'll be just fine." Perhaps he shouldn’t talk about her as if she's a dim-witted dog, but the words leave his mouth before he can stop them.

Incomprehensibly, Kyrie starts laughing as if Vergil just made a joke. Her humour makes the rest of them chuckle or laugh as well and Vergil decides to let it be, if they want to take it as a joke they're absolutely welcome to.

Still... She is a sheep among wolves. And if she wants to stay with Nero, and Nero's planning to continue on with the demon hunting business... Well.

Dante leads the way out of the shop, Trish and Nero at his heel as Kyrie waves after them.

Vergil watches her for a brief moment before he makes up his mind. Might as well.

"Come with me," he says without preamble and turns around, heading for where he knows Dante's devil arm storage is.

"Mister Vergil?"

Kyrie's footsteps echo slightly as she hurries to catch up with him. So trusting.

Still, it will work out in her favour for now.

"Should we really be in here, Mister Vergil? Mister Dante said this is where he keeps most of the devil arms he's collected and that they can be dangerous..." she says, making sure to stay behind Vergil, effectively using him as a shield. So she's not dumb, excellent. Vergil smirks, but continues through the rows of devil arms.

"We're looking for a particular one. Tell me if you catch sight of a gun made of dark metal with a blue rose on the handle." It should be somewhere around here, unless Dante couldn't bear to keep it around, but that seems unlikely, all things considered.

"Is it that one?" Kyrie points towards Vergil's right, and there it is. Adelaide. The devil arm father gave mother for her protection.

He picks it up, and immediately he feels the familiar feeling of his skin starting to melt off by acid. Adelaide hasn’t changed a bit.

"Mister Vergil! Your hand!" Kyrie sounds horrified, voice slightly muffled behind her hands as she stares at the weapon in horror.

Vergil spins Adelaide around and reaches out with her, handle first, towards Kyrie.

"Take it."

She only stares at him without moving a muscle and Vergil can feel irritation swell. This may well be the last time he tries to do something  _ nice _ for one of Dante's friends.

"It won't harm  _ you, _ just take it." He'd ask her to trust him, but he's not sure whether that would have the opposite effect.

Still, Kyrie reaches out, hesitant and careful, with a shaking hand and slowly grasps the gun around the handle. As soon as he can see that she has a grip on the gun, he lets it go so his hand can start regenerating the melted tissue. He shakes it slightly as it heals and keeps a careful eye on Kyrie where she still holds the gun very carefully.

"It's not hurting me... But it... It hurt  _ you. _ Why?"

Before he even considers answering her question, Vergil leads her out of the devil arm storage. Better to not have her around the rest of them for too long, just in case.

"The devil arm you're holding is Adelaide. My father gave it to my mother for her protection before Dante and I were even born. As children, Adelaide would let us use her, but ever since my mother was murdered, Adelaide has refused to let anyone except human women handle her."

Vergil wants a drink. He doesn't really want to be talking about this at all.

"So. I'm going to teach you how to shoot, so you can at least protect yourself and won't need to depend on Nero. If you have enough spiritual strength and are capable of training it further, you'll be able to use Adelaide without bullets. Otherwise you'll have to carry some with you, thought Adelaide will take care of the reloading as long as there are bullets available."

Vergil glances to the side and sees Kyrie turn Adelaide over in her hands, gently stroking the elegant handle.

"Okay," she says, voice barely above a whisper. "When do we start?"

"Immediately." Vergil smirks. "But you're going to have to change out of that dress of yours."

#

Kyrie is, surprisingly, a quick study. Her aim is very good, likely helped by the fact that Adelaide has minimal kick-back thanks to being a devil arm and not a regular gun.

Kyrie doesn't ask him how he knew where Dante keeps his spare bullets—Vergil isn't even sure why he has any at all since he doesn't use them when he shoots—and she's apparently utterly willing to accept that Vergil just knows these things.

They're still in the improvised shooting range Vergil set up in one of the spare rooms when the others return.

"Kyrie?  _ Kyrie?" _

Ah. Perhaps not being anywhere in the front room when the others returned was not the best idea.

"I'll be right there, Nero!" Kyrie yells back, as she sets out to carefully unload the bullets from Adelaide.

Before she can finish, however, the door opens and Nero, Dante, and Trish all look inside, varying levels of confusion on their faces.

Vergil doesn't move from his position on the couch, arms crossed over his chest and legs casually crossed at the ankles, and instead only raises an eyebrow at the newcomers.

"Kyrie?! Is that a gun?" Nero's face is baffled.

Dante's face morphs from confusion to a thunderous scowl.

"Vergil. You gave her a devil arm?"

The words drop as a stone and Vergil finds himself staring into Nero and Trish's horrified faces.

"He's been teaching me to shoot, Mister Dante," Kyrie says, forcing some cheer into her tone, though Vergil can tell that she's worried that Dante's angry.

"It's Adelaide," Vergil says, looking Dante in the eyes and seeing his flinch.

"Oh. Right. Adelaide. Of course," Dante's voice is low and slightly hoarse.

Nero and Trish can't seem to decide who they should look at, Vergil, Kyrie, or Dante. Vergil says nothing, merely raises an eyebrow and waits for anyone to dare make a comment about the situation.

"I thought you needed to have demon powers to use a devil arm?" Nero finally manages to get out.

"Adelaide is... special." Dante's eyes a trained at the gun in Kyrie's hands, his demeanour of someone who's mentally a million miles away.

Kyrie bites her lip, and looks between Dante and Vergil a few times.

"I'll tell you later, Nero, I promise." She shifts from foot to foot, awkward. "Where should I put Adelaide?"

While the question was directed to Vergil, it's Dante who answers, "Keep her on you. She won't be much protection if you leave her behind."

Vergil clenches his jaw, teeth grinding together, at the reminder of what happened. He didn't tell Kyrie the details, didn't want to go into it.

They had been brats all day, running around getting into trouble. Mother had left Adelaide behind when chasing after them, and then the demons had arrived.

It had gone so fast. Mother had been injured several times before they even made it back to Adelaide, Rebellion, and Yamato. Vergil and Dante hadn't been strong enough to save her without their weapons, and neither of them have any abilities in the art of healing.

She'd died in their arms on the kitchen floor, Adelaide falling out of her slackened grip, blood pooling everywhere.

It had been their fault.

If they can make sure Kyrie never goes anywhere without Adelaide and ammo, then at least she will have a chance.

#

Days pass by. Vergil keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, waits for Dante to decide that he doesn't want Vergil around after all.

Sometimes he wonders if he'll wake up to a sword to the chest seconds before Dante blows his brains out with Ebony and Ivory.

It doesn't happen.

In fact, Dante hasn't even kicked Vergil out of his bedroom and Vergil isn't sure where he's been sleeping instead. It doesn't seem to be the couch, and of the rooms Vergil has looked through, only two seem to be extra bed room and they're occupied by Nero and Kyrie.

Trish, apparently, has an apartment somewhere else. From what vergil has managed to find out, she used to live in one of the extra bedrooms but quickly decided that while she and Dante work well as friends and work partners, they do not fit as housemates.

Vergil is unsurprised, his brother can be grating in large doses.

Then again, so can Vergil.

They're both rather... acquired tastes.

Lady comes and goes as she likes, inviting herself for pizza evenings, coming along on Dante's missions, or even giving Kyrie shooting tips. Vergil more or less immediately stepped back and let Dante and Nero take over shooting instructions. He's not a teacher, and he very rarely uses a gun anyway.

Besides, for all that Vergil is less of an anti-social asshole since he allowed himself to be human again, he's still far from the social butterfly his brother is. He prefers standing to the side and observe rather than being the life of the party, as it were.

Dante is... a point of interest. He seems torn between wanting to believe that Vergil is there to stay and highly suspicious of Vergil's motives. Even while Vergil's actions have endeared himself to many of the others, Dante remains vigilant. He seems to wonder what Vergil's game is, what he's hoping to get out of it.

However, he also seems unable to find an answer. For good reason, Vergil has already been given more or less everything Dante is likely to think he wants—the power he gave Trish to revive her and Yamato—so it would make sense for Vergil to leave again. Disappear.

Of course, Vergil is not about to tell Dante what he wants. What he came for.

For all that he is "better", now, he's still utterly depraved. Wanting your brother in a carnal sense, in every sense, sexual, romantically, is something that goes against modern human sensibilities in this part of the world at least. And want him Vergil does.

Dante comes to him in dreams, not a stitch of clothing on his body, bathed in pale moonlight.

And Vergil devours him every time. Presses him down on the bed and soon they rock together in wild abandon. Shouts, grunts, groans, and moans filling the room.

Vergil wakes up expecting the musk of sex and the feeling of his brother's warm body in the bed.

He wakes up disappointed every time.

Of course, it's not helped when Nero and Kyrie finally pack their bags and head back to Fortuna city and Dante and Vergil are the only people in Devil May Cry almost every single night.

It gets even worse once Dante becomes more comfortable and stops wearing proper clothing and goes back to the type of things he wore when they were younger: pants and not shirt, sometimes his coat slung over his shoulders.

And then Trish and Lady decide to go on a "ladies only" mission, estimated time to completion? Several weeks.

Vergil only barely keeps from ripping his hair out at the thought of being alone with his brother for so long. He considers disappearing into the woods for a week, but he's also very well aware that Dante may take that as him finally leaving to never come back again.

Still, he spends a lot of time out of the shop.

The few missions he follows Dante on are a blessing. It's hard to think about fucking your brother when you're slaughtering your way through hordes of demons as ugly as those that come their way.

And then...

#

Vergil tries to slap Dante's hands away from his slicked-back hair even as he pushes him into the bed, pressing their bodies together harshly. He growls as he bites at Dante's jaw—finally,  _ finally _ —and gives up getting his brother to stop messing his hair up, he has more important things he can do with the hand that isn't holding Dante's leg by the back of the knee.

"Fuck, V..." Dante groans out, a sound better than anything Vergil has ever managed to imagine.

Fantasy cannot hold a candle to the real feeling of Dante's sweat slicked skin against Vergil's, to the sound of Dante's groans and pants, to the way Dante's nails start digging into Vergil's back once their dicks finally slide together.

Vergil wants to be inside Dante, the hunger in his chest almost unbearable. He wants to bury himself inside his brother and never leave, stay locked together as one forever, as his brother screams in pleasure.

His right hand finds a nipple, rubbing and pulling at it until it's peaked and likely sore.

It becomes slightly violent, they thrust against each other with little finesse and no care, Dante's nails leave welts and smears of blood along Vergil's back.

Vergil breaks the skin on Dante's jaw, blood smearing his lips red and he can taste him.

Dante, Dante,  _ Dante. _

Nothing but them in the whole world, and as their mouths slot together, teeth clashing and tongues twining, Vergil decides that he's given Dante more than enough time to change his mind.

He rips his mouth away from Dante's, just enough that their breaths are still mingling as their eyes meet in a heavy stare.

The blood from Vergil's mouth has smeared over Dante's and the sight of it makes Vergil's cock twitch. Maybe he's fucked in the head, maybe it's because he's a demon, either way he cannot even begin to care, the sight of his brother smeared with blood is almost agonizing in its eroticism.

Dante's lips curl into a smirk, teeth glinting in the bedroom's dim light, and then he wraps his free leg around Vergil's back and pushes them together harder.

Vergil shudders, shudders, shudders and can't wait any longer.

"Suck," he commands, his fingers tracing Dante's blood stained lips, hips still rocking into his brother's with sharp stabs of pleasure.

For once in his life, Dante does what he's told, tongue curling around Vergil's fingers as his eyes flash red.

Danger. Intoxication.

The preparation is fast and rough, Vergil's spit-wet fingers opening Dante up almost cruelly, not giving and inch of respite as Dante shudders and shakes with the stimulation.

"Ready, brother?" Vergil whispers, lips brushing against Dante's ear, as his fingers slide free from his body.

"Fuuck," Dante groans, head falling back on the pillow, neck arched and on display—so ready for Vergil's lips and teeth—before one hand leaves Vergil's back to press against the headboard. "Just fucking do it, Vergil.  _ Fuck me. _ "

Vergil pushes inside, almost agonisingly slowly, desperate to cherish every inch of this first penetration. Dante's gasps go up in octave as he shakes and pushes back against Vergil, trying to speed the process up, but Vergil refuses to let him.

Millimetre by millimetre until finally their hips slot together, snug, like pieces of a puzzle.

"Goddamnit, Vergil, fucking move!" Dante growls out, legs shaking where they're wrapped around Vergil's waist.

Finally, Vergil relents.

The world narrows down to nothing but the feeling of Dante's muscles squeezing around his cock, the stinging of the wounds Dante leaves on his pack, the loud squeaking of the bed springs, their harsh panting, and the slick slide of their bodies against each other.

Heat and sweat and pleasure.

Euphoria.

#

Vergil stretches out on the bed next to his brother, revelling in the feeling of strained muscles and the press of sheets against the scratches on his back.

The room smells of sweat and sex and Vergil finds himself relaxing completely in the almost silence—broken only by their panting breaths.

He'll allow Dante to be the first to speak. He can wait.

"This isn't what I expected when you showed up," Dante says, sounding almost confused. As if he's looking at a puzzle he should be able to solve, but cannot quite wrap his head around.

"Oh?"

"Nah. I expected more something like you trying to kill me and reclaim Yamato before fucking off again. I was pretty convinced you were just playing some long con."

Vergil considers the words. It's a rather unflattering view of his character, but he cannot claim it's not accurate. Before... that's likely what he would have done.

"What changed your mind, then? If you've changed your mind at all." Vergil turns his head to look at his brother, but Dante's only staring at the ceiling, arms crossed behind his head.

"Giving Adelaide to Kyrie. It's above and beyond anything you'd need to do to fake sincerity. I was still suspicious afterwards, but that one thing did make a lot of difference."

Finally Dante turns to look back at Vergil, eyes half-lidded, small flecks of dried blood still around his mouth.

Vergil rolls to his side and goes up on an elbow to hover over Dante for a brief second before he leans down and kisses him, deep and slow, as his free hand curls around the back of his head.

He pulls back, just slightly, and breathes the same air as Dante for a few seconds before he replies, "She's a sheep among wolves. Her devotion to him was obvious, as was his to her, but it was equally clear that no one has ever given her any way to protect herself. Don't count on me making a habit of it, however. But it's something I could do in return for Yamato. And for likely being the reason he gets targeted by demons in the first place."

Dante huffs a small laugh.

"So he is your kid then?" So he'd suspected it, much like Vergil thought.

"Don't know, but it seems likely. Unless you think  _ you're _ his gene donor." Vergil watches Dante's face carefully. He just laughs again.

"Nope. Maybe I was the more promiscuous between the two of us, but I was never careless." He licks his lips and Vergil follows the motion of his tongue, the hunger building in his chest again.

"Enough about that," Vergil says and pulls Dante into another kiss, rolling on top of him.

If they leave this bed some time this week it will be too soon.

Dante reciprocates enthusiastically, legs spreading to properly accommodate Vergil on top of him, and arms wrapping around Vergil's shoulders, pulling him closer.

Vergil slides his hand down Dante's side as his hips start thrusting against Dante's, their dicks twitching and gaining interest in a round... however many it is now.

"You done fucking yet?" The door slams open, and Lady bursts in, Trish hot on her heels.

Vergil freezes, Dante startles, and they both slowly turn their heads to stare at the women who just burst into the room.

Lady and Trish's eyes meet and they roll their eyes.

"How many times are you gonna go at it? Nevermind, we've got a job, so take a shower to get rid of the worst of it, and get dressed," Trish says and cocks her hips and smiles.

"Babes... What the fuck..." Dante's clearly stumped, not that Vergil can pretend that he's much better of in that regard.

Lady rolls her eyes again.

"I can't even begin to pretend that I get it. You guys are twins, how narcissistic can you get? But honestly? I've seen worse shit over the years, and I'm entirely out of fucks to care."

"I'm a demon, I don't have the kind of hangups humans tend to have," Trish says with a shrug. "Though I can't speak for Nero or Kyrie, you'll have to cross that bridge when you get to it." She looks thoughtful.

Vergil feels like he can't move. His hand is still on Dante's thigh, the other behind his neck, his hips are still pressed flush against Dante's.

If Vergil was prone to embarrassment, he may have lost his erection due to this whole debacle, but no. He's still hard, and he still wants to fuck his brother into next week. Again.

By the feel of Dante's arms still clinging to his shoulders and his dick nestled against Vergil's, he wouldn't be opposed to the idea.

"... Can it wait?" Dante finally says, clearly of the same mind as Vergil.

Lady and Trish only laugh loudly and leave the room, the door shutting behind them, the sound of their steps echoing down the hall.

Vergil's eyes finally leave the door and he turns his attention back to his brother. Dante smiles.

"How about a bit of demon killing before we go for round... eight, is it?"

Vergil snorts, but relents, slowly moving off his brother.

"Fine."

Life seems like it'll be interesting from now on. Very interesting indeed.


End file.
